


Whumptober 2020 Prompts

by BrianneABanana



Category: RWBY
Genre: Blood, Death Threats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Gore, Hospital Setting, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whump, hospital patient pov, sexual innuendos and references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrianneABanana/pseuds/BrianneABanana
Summary: Atlas is a kingdom rife with crime, derelict infrastructure, and savage grimm. Somehow every form danger is out to hurt Qrow… and Clover by proxy.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Day 9 - Ritual Sacrifice - Qrow POV

**Author's Note:**

> It's way past October but idgaf! I'll be sporadic with uploads since I've been working on it in bits n pieces, and I'm not sure if I'll do all 31. 
> 
> Please check the tags and be prepared! I’ll add more specific tags in the notes of each chapter.

Looking back through all of the files Clover had on the various criminals and groups the Kingdom of Atlas had, Qrow honestly didn’t think a gods damn rich people cult would be one of them. Unfortunately for him, he thought wrong, as he was currently their soon-to-be sacrifice. 

He actually wasn’t too mad about this one! At least these assholes had a dramatic flair that the other criminals so far had lacked - fancy masks and outfits, an archaic way of speaking, hell they had played classical music as they cut off his shirt and chained his wrists, ankles, and hips down to the giant stone table he was lying on! Though with his bony hips? _Not too comfortable._

He just wished that Clover would _hurry his ass up and bust in_ before these socialite lunatics sliced him open and drained all his ‘filthy, defiled, and unclean’ blood from his body in order to summon a demon to give them the power to suck even more profit from the less fortunate. Earlier that night, he learned he’d assumed correctly about what kind of victims they abducted for these rituals; those they deemed ‘lesser’ and like they’d said a few minutes ago - ‘filthy, defiled, and unclean. Which was exactly why they’d grabbed him off an empty Mantle street; simply because he’d been wearing dirty clothing, heavily drinking in public, and loudly talking about ‘going back to that place downtown to get railed again.’ 

_He had been faking it all for the mission of course;_ wearing purposefully dirtied hand me downs, acting as bait by ‘getting drunk’ on sparkling water from the wine bottle he’d sloshed around and _very much lying_ about having gone to Mantle to get railed. 

_He had Clover for that._

Regardless of what he got up to in his personal life, he, Clover, and thankfully a good chunk of the Atlas military didn’t like how mostly Mantle citizens were being deemed ‘dirty’ and disappearing only to be discovered days later as drained corpses on the outskirts of the crater. Which is why he was currently in this predicament, and Clover was elsewhere in the compound with a small military team gathering evidence and information. The plan beyond the initial infiltration was for the team to extract the evidence while Clover found and rescued him, though that was where things got tricky - 

The team only followed him when he was kidnapped. _He’d be miffed all night with how they too-tightly bound his wrists and manhandled him, not caring how banged up he got as the van they shoved him into sped around the city._ Their comeuppance would come later… Anyways, he knew that Clover and the team had tracked him to where he was _once again_ manhandled, thanks to a discrete signal. The problem was that they didn’t have a floorplan of wherever the hell in the building the cult took him and if he knew anything about rich people, he would bet the Schnee family fortune that he was in a _compound_ of hallways, rooms, and secret entrances.

Great. He hoped Clover was good at navigating mazes.

A sharp pain in his side brought him back to the present.

The sacrifice had begun. Confirming with a quick scan that there was no sign of Clover, he sighed. He would do his best to trust in his partner, but he’d already been stabbed a few times between his ribs and he’d rather it not continue. Luckily the stabs were not all that big - an inch wide and 3 deep if he was guessing by the knife in the cult leaders’ hand - so the rate at which he would bleed should be slow. 

Movement on the edge of his vision caught his focus - A flash of light brown against the deep maroon curtains on the balcony to his left.

Another minute or so passed by until the stabbing along his sides ceased, and more archaic chanting was read from an ancient-looking book the cult leader was holding. He could feel his blood running down his sides, head now a touch woozy. 

A brief flash of light shined from the balcony above the tiered cult group seating. ‘ _Thank gods,’_ he thought, giving a signal of his own in reply.

The chanting from before increased in volume, the rest of the congregation joining in. The ring and symbols etched into the stone table under him start glowing. He clenched his jaw to fight the burn now licking along his sides, but he couldn’t stop himself from writhing. The feeling reminded him of his scar from before Haven. It only got hotter and hotter, almost too much for him to bear before everything just _stopped._

Thanks to the haze of pain and blood loss he’s not quite sure what exactly happened, but the chanting had ceased, the table stopped glowing, and he relaxed somewhat now that his sides didn’t feel like they were on fire anymore. Now he had the wherewithal to register that someone was gently patting his face. His vision focused just enough for him to recognize Clover leaning over him, now reaching up to uncuff his wrists.

He knew he was slurring his words, gasping them between heaving breaths when he tried to sass his partner, “Took ya lo- long ‘nough... This tables’- not ‘xactly... _comfy_.” 

Clover started talking back, but Qrow was too tired to try and comprehend what he was saying. That and he couldn’t hear clearly over his heart beating in his ears. He hummed along at what he thought were appropriate times as he struggled to bring his hands down from above his head. 

_His sides hurt, he wanted to hug himself ok?_

The cuffs fell off his ankles with a dull clang and Clover was over him again, taking care as he moved his arms to his lap and picked him up from the table. Funny enough, he was feeling a little calmer and clearer now that he was safe in Clover’s arms.

“Let’s get you to the medics Qrow.”

“Their turn ta sacrifice me?”

Clover’s rumbling laugh soothed him. “No, no more sacrificing. If anything, once you’re all patched up I’ll bring you home and worship you.”

“Hope that doesn’t involve any more bondage” he lightly joked.

“Heh, not tonight Pretty Bird.”

“Souns’ good Cloves.”


	2. Day 10 - Trail of Blood - Clover POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Tags: Blood

Clover wasn’t exactly thrilled about his current mission assignment. He thought it would be a great time, considering that he and Qrow were on this mission as partners. The two of them were unstoppable on the battlefield against both grimm and criminals, their teamwork so seamless that you’d think they’d have been partners for a decade already! It certainly helped to have been working together almost daily for hours on end since Qrow and the kids arrived about 3 months ago. Anyways, their mission tonight was to catch two criminals in Mantle together, but that was the hitch… 

They weren’t _together_ for the mission right now.

Their initial plan - intending to wrangle two targets at once - had gone a tad sideways and the criminals split up, so they did too. To clarify, Qrow was an incredible huntsman so he wasn’t worried about him or anything; just irritated that he couldn’t spend quality huntsman time with his partner.

He huffed and pouted all the way through catching Jimmy “the Johnman” Stevens - _what was up with that name?_ \- but his ire lifted the moment the criminal was wrapped in his bolas and reported to local authorities. Checking his surroundings and determining his own location, he figured out the quickest way to get to where he and Qrow planned to meet.

Some running along rooftops and a quick couple of swings later, he landed on a rooftop overlooking the street he expected Qrow to be at. 

_‘Wait… is that?’_

Noticing what looked to be either an oddly shaped trash bag or a person, he hopped down from the roof to investigate.

_‘Ok, not a trash bag.’_

Qrow’s target was slumped on the ground, tied up and blacked out, but the huntsman himself was nowhere in sight. Trying their call signal to no avail, he started searching around to see if he could find any clues to determine where Qrow had gone. 

There were no real signs of property damage or of a fight, not anymore that Mantle’s streets already had anyway, so he felt unsettled. 

_‘Qrow is more for direct confrontations than sneak attacks… so unless the criminal didn’t fight him back there would’ve been more evidence of a fight along the street. What happened?’_

He looked back down at the criminal to see if there was something on him he missed, but his eye was caught by something by his own foot. His stomach coiled when he realized what it was… there on the sidewalk was a small trickle of blood leading down the alleyway. From the way the initial drops fell onto the pavement and the lack of blood on him, he knew the trail was going away from the criminal. 

Keeping his hand near Kingfisher just in case, he followed it, the trickle becoming a line, then a stream. His gut clenched seeing the line waver back and forth, dotted with a few splatters along the way, possibly indicating the one bleeding was coughing up blood. As he was staring down intently as he followed the trail, he almost didn’t notice the alleyway ending at a dead end…

Or the man lying against the back wall.

“Qrow!” Clover called out, rushing forwards through the splashes of blood to where Qrow sat, slumped against the bricks and in yet another puddle of red. “What happened to you?!”

“Hey C-Clover… I knew that bastard went down too easy… His semblance made it so his blows didn’t have any effect ‘ntil he activated it. After he went down, he started inflicting all the blows I took in the fight. Stabbed me a bunch apparently… So I decided to get into the alleyway to bleed out instead of the open street.”

He was horrified, but there was no time to unpack Qrow’s logic about not bleeding out where he could’ve more easily have found him. “Qrow listen to me, you’ve lost _a lot_ of blood, I’m calling medical. Is-”

Qrow grunted and coughed again, holding his middle. “A-ah shit…”

“What’s wrong??” His hands shook over him, not confident about where he could touch without making things worse.

“Another stab… he got in a lot.”

He could feel the panic really sinking in seeing even more blood well up from Qrow’s torso, staining his clothes. He was shaken out of it by Qrow grabbing his arm.

“Cloves, it-it’ll be ok. Call medical.”

“R-right…” Quickly calling the medical team to their location as well as a prisoner ship to take care of Qrow's target, Clover shelved his fears for now and focused on keeping his partner alive. 

He gripped Qrow's shoulder to get his attention, “Qrow, I’m gonna lay you down alright? I can put pressure on your wounds to stem the blood flow.”

“Y-Yea.”

His arms moved slowly, holding Qrow underneath his thighs and the top of his back to lower him forward to lie flat on the ground. Qrow groaned at the move, but didn’t wince or seem to feel any sharp pains. Pressing his hands to Qrow’s torso changed that. As soon as he applied pressure, Qrow cried out and snapped a hand up to one of his wrists, trying to pry it off of him and stop the pain. Luckily his grip was too weak to move his hand, but that also meant that Qrow was starting to fade. 

He had to look away when Qrow threw his head back and whined in distress. “I know it hurts Lovebird, just hold on for a little while longer ok?”

The five minutes it took for the medical team to arrive and take over felt like an eternity to Clover. He’d tried and failed to keep his composure in that time, now wiping a tear or two away from his cheeks. The thought of Qrow not making it had seeped too far into his brain and wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let him focus on making sure everything with the criminals was wrapped up, or report to the General. 

Looking back down the alleyway, the blood trail he’d followed made sure to let him know that he would not be able to separate from Qrow on missions for a while either. 


	3. Day 16 - Forced to Beg - Clover POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Tags: Humiliation, Death Threats

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Captain.”

Clover angrily smirked at the mob boss he had Kingfisher’s harpoon pointed at. The rather portly man was wanted throughout the kingdom for his organizations’ crimes ranging from petty robbery, trespassing, and parking violations to successful assassinations, and large scale fraud and illegal weapons distribution! The rich had turned a blind eye to Francis ‘Brickhouse’ Hoffman at first since he only had his people deal down in Mantle, but all too quickly did his gang grow to hitting big time targets like the Atlas Diamond Casino, and various politicians attempting to put a stop to their operations. How it took this long for military huntsmen to get involved, he’d never know.

“Oh? And why not?”

A thunk echoed through the now silent room, but Clover paid it no mind. He knew all too well how Hoffman controlled people - making time with idle distractions and threats of bodily harm - which wouldn’t be enough to stop him. As one of the most highly trained operatives in all of the kingdom, Clover could very easily fight off multiple targets and catch Hoffman before he got away. 

“No use Hoffman. You won’t distract me from taking you down you-”

“Get your hands off me!”

Now  _ that _ , Clover paid attention to. 

He swiveled his head away from the mob boss, finding Qrow on his knees, hands bound behind him. Hoffman's right hand man stood next to his captured partner, holding the back of his head by his grey streaked, black hair. The bastard made sure to angle Qrow’s face up into the moonlight coming from the window both to show off the huge bruise across his eye and the beginnings of bruising around the base of his neck. His mind raced trying to figure out how the hell  _ Qrow Branwen _ had gotten captured, being one of the most capable huntsmen he knew, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. 

Hoffman must’ve seen the change on his face that gave away the mental marathon he was doing to try and work around this complication. The man’s grin oozed sickly sweet satisfaction as he addressed Clover. “That, Captain, is why.” 

Qrow of course kept struggling, loudly voicing his annoyance at being manhandled and for Clover to  _ “take that fat bastard down already!” _

He’d learned just how defiant and fearless his partner could be in these situations, for which he was thankful. Though, it did worry him that the man seemed to have a tight grip, and that Qrow looked to be favoring his right side… Still, knowing Qrow, it wouldn’t be enough of a problem. 

“My demands,” the man at his harpoon tip stated taking Clover from his thoughts, “are that in order for you both to leave his building alive, you will get down on your hands and knees, lick my boots like the military dog you are, and beg me for your friends’ life.”

Clover instantly became furiously indignant for two reasons; One, that this asshole had the gaul to ask that kind of thing from him at all, and two-  _ ‘No one underestimates his partner.’ _

He barked out a laugh and channeled Qrow’s bravado, “Excuse me? You expect me to be intimidated by some henchman? Tell me, what’s stopping me from taking you out while Qrow brings him down?”

The boss snapped his fingers. The man holding Qrow hostage pulled a weapon off his belt, pointing it at Qrow’s head. 

_ ‘That further complicates things’ _ Clover reasoned,  _ ‘but nothing Qrow couldn’t walk away from.’  _

Another snap from Hoffman quickly changed his mind.

The compact weapon in the large man’s grip looked like a double barreled flintlock pistol, which wasn’t too bad. Though not ideal, an experienced and practiced huntsman like Qrow could take a bullet from that and only have his aura break; The force might knock him down or disorient him momentarily, but Clover could handle things by himself until Qrow recovered. 

No, what made it a real problem was upon the trigger being cocked back, gauges along each barrel lit up with a different dust effect, one barrel glowing with heat from fire dust and the other crackling from electricity dust. The destructive power he’d had the unfortunate horror of seeing once in the field from dust laced bullets…  _ he couldn’t let that man pull the trigger. _

Grinding his teeth together he acquiesced, “Fine, I’ll do it!” 

“W-What?” Qrow sounded floored. 

He could see the emotions flashing through Qrow’s face - bafflement, confusion, betrayal, hurt… A wide-eyed look of desperation and disbelief settled on his face last, so vulnerable coming from his partner that Clover had to look away.

_ ‘He can’t see the weapon. He doesn’t realize the danger he’s in now. He’ll understand.’ _

Qrow searched him for a sign he wouldn’t receive. He tried one last time “C-Clover... don’t-”

_ “I’ll do it.”  _ Clover’s voice didn’t waver. He faced the mob boss with a strong conviction.

“Ha! Get to it then.”

Clover steeled himself, repeatedly reminding his pride that Qrow’s life was at stake here. He dropped to his knees first, then lowered onto his hands. All the confidence he had before drained out of him. Adopting the most pleading tone he could, Clover begged. “Please,  _ please _ let Qrow go. I promise we’ll leave your organization be, just don’t hurt him.” 

He heard Qrow whisper his name in sadness, but he couldn’t bear to look at him right now. 

“Hmm… that's a good start dog, but not convincing enough” the man sneered. “Try again.”

“I-I…” Clover racked his brain to think of what else he could say. “P-Please I… Qrow means so much to me. It would devastate me if anything happened to him... He’s my partner, m-my lover… my weakness.”

The mob boss guffawed, “Oh ho! So the dutiful and squeaky clean Captain of the Ace Ops has such a weakness after all! How interesting...“ 

Clover didn’t like how he drummed his fingers together.

“That will do for now. Next, my boots look a little dirty Captain! Put that tongue to work and shine them for me.”

The first lick Clover took of the leather boot in front of him had him gagging. The earthy taste of dirt, minerals, and…  _ was that blood? _ flooded his mouth. He had to shudder, but pressed on. He closed his eyes and pretended that he was somewhere else, anywhere else than here, and didn’t dare think of the diseases he could get from this. 

After another minute of it, Hoffman nudged him away to inspect his boot. “Wow, would ya look at that! You did better than the kid I  _ pay _ to shine my shoes… You really are a bootlicker, Captain.” 

He could almost feel the satisfaction drip from Hoffman’s mouth.

“Clean the other one then, hop to it  _ dog _ .”

Going back to his happy place, Clover did as the man commanded. His tongue didn’t feel like his own by the time he was finished. 

Once again Hoffman checked his boot. “Just as nice. Good job dog! Last on the list - gimme your best bark.”

He  _ tried, _ he really did, but Clover just couldn’t bring himself to do it. An involuntary growl left his throat instead.

“Close but no cigar. Bark damn you! This is your last chance.”

Clover shoved all of his pride and personhood down, berating himself for not complying when he knew what was at stake. 

Apparently he took too long, and the mob boss kicked him in the face, and yelled “I told you to Bark! Maybe you need a reminder-” 

At a click, Clover’s eyes shot up. Hoffman had his gun drawn on Qrow.

“Either bark, or your  _ bitch _ gets it. Your choice Captain.”

Weeks later, Clover would recount this as the time he ‘did his best impression of Marrow in his life.’

Shame washed over him in waves as Hoffman laughed and wheezed, practically falling over with mirth. “Holy hell, that was so perfect! Ha! You’ve more than earned your freedom.” He snapped at the man holding Qrow. “Let ‘im go.”

Qrow was roughly thrown forwards onto the floor with a harsh thud. Clover darted forwards and cradled him, glaring daggers into Hoffman.

“You’re both free to go, Captain. I trust that you won’t be tellin the higher ups about our operations? Unless you want everyone in Atlas to know just how similar you are to Operative Amin of course…

Clover cringed away. He silently stood up, still holding Qrow in his arms, and walked out. He didn’t stop walking until they got out of the complex they’d infiltrated and down the street a few blocks. Once he deemed them to be far away enough, he put Qrow onto his feet and cut off the rope around his wrists. 

Sighing in relief, he turned around to his partner and spoke with a weary voice, “Qrow, come on lets-”

He stopped. Qrow was looking away from him, hunched over and palming his head. Alarm bells rang in his head. ‘ _ Did Qrow get hurt after all? Did he hit his head when that bastard threw him to the ground?’  _ “Qrow? Qrow are you ok?” 

The other man wheeled around when Clover put his hand on his shoulder. He was thrown off, confused, at Qrow’s reaction.

“Am  _ I _ ok??” he shouted, face red, eyes watering. His hands shook as he threw them out into the air, “Why the fuck would you ask me that? I should be asking  _ you _ that you  _ idiot! _ ” 

“W-What? I-”

“Shut up!” Qrow surged forwards and grabbed his collar, “I’m  _ fine!  _ I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t- I wasn’t the one who…” He trailed off, leaning into Clover’s chest, breath stuttering. His voice dropped into a whisper. “I wasn’t the one- the one they  _ h-humiliated. _ ”

_ ‘Ah.’ _

That told him all he needed to know. Clover brought his arms around Qrow slowly. “Oh Lovebird, it’s ok-”

“No it’s not!” he brokenly yelled, shoving Clover back into the alley wall. “And don’t you ‘Lovebird’ me! It’s  _ not _ ok. Especially because… because you didn’t  _ have to. _ Not for-”

Clover knew where this was going so he stopped Qrow short with a “Nope!” He pried him away from his chest and held onto his upper arms so his partner could see his face. “Look at me. You didn’t make me comply with their demands.  _ I chose to. _ I  _ chose _ to let them humiliate me because I didn’t want them to hurt you, to…” he grimaced, gently caressing the darkened bruise on Qrow’s face. “For god's sake the weapon held to your head was more than just a gun, Qrow! It was terrifying! Even if your aura protected you from the bullets, the effects of the fire and lightning dust laced in them would’ve left  _ serious lasting _ damage if they didn’t outright  _ kill you... _ ”

The sudden surprise in Qrows face morphed into understanding, then back down to an expression that told Clover he was still unconvinced “If- If I hadn't have gotten caught like an  _ amatuer _ then you-”

“Stop!” Clover pulled Qrow back into his chest, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing. “Please stop this. Qrow you  _ know _ how much I love and care about you! You heard me say as much earlier... I would endure so much more than I did tonight if it meant that you would be safe. My pride is not and will never be worth more than your life, I need you to accept that.”

Tears finally streamed down Qrows cheeks in earnest as he cried and sobbed in Clover’s arms. His chorus of  _ ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’ _ was met with quiet shushing, a hand running through his hair, and warm, hushed reassurances.

In the nights to come Qrow would return the favor, soothing Clover's fears and making sure he knew he’d had a nightmare, that he wasn’t responsible for the death he’d put so much on the line to prevent.


	4. Day 29 - Intubation - Qrow POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Tags: Hospital Patient POV, Graphic Injury, Medical Gore

Qrow woke up in an unfamiliar place. The room was a bland white color, the ceiling an equally boring white. The bed was firm, his clothes were replaced with light green scrubs. The steady beeping confirmed it - he was in the hospital.

He tried to recollect how he got here and why he was here in the first place... 

He took stock.

His body felt heavy. Like he was floating? Nothing really hurt or felt sore. He could wiggle his fingers and toes, so not paralyzed… He didn’t feel sick either.  _ So why was he here? _

He tried to call out to someone but he couldn't. His.. his voice was… gone? His hands flew to his throat, feeling something there underneath his skin that he hadn’t noticed yet. His thoughts raced-  _ ‘Whats going on? I can’t talk I… I can’t- breathe?!” _

He was sure he was going to pass out before a muddled voice got his attention,  _ “Mr.Br--wen st-p! You’re ----ing your--lf!” _

He didn't realize it until his hands were wrenched from his neck and into his vision, coated thick with blood, but he had started clawing at his throat and hyperventilating. 

_ He’d find out later that he left long bloody gouges from his chin to his collarbones that required stitches.  _

Strong hands held him down by his arms and shoulders as he realized that more... people? filled into the room. 

Vague colors and shapes. Deep echoing rumbles. What he only assumed in his frantic haze to be the people who put him here returning to finish what they started.

Qrow squirmed and thrashed, trying to get them to let him go, to release him, so he could wrench the blockage from his airway and  _ breathe again- _

A hand in his hair made him stop and look around wildly, his eyes finally focusing on two teal pools to his right. A solid, clear voice cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Qrow! Qrow please calm down, you’re alright, you’re gonna be alright!”

He tried replying, but the obstruction down his throat stopped him. His fear spiked again but the man, the familiar face,  _ Clover _ \- stopped it from escalating.

“Qrow please listen. You’re in the hospital. You got hurt and needed to get a breathing tube. You can’t talk, but I promise you can breathe.”

Clover’s voice calmed Qrow a bit, but he still couldn’t help but shed tears from his panic. He felt something - Clover’s thumb - wipe away his tears. 

“Don’t force it Qrow, the tube will breathe for you. You’re gonna be ok. Please try to relax.”

He  _ tried. _ He tried so hard to stop resisting and relax around the tube. He tried to stop tensing from the terror he was feeling, convinced he was going to suffocate. He tried to make eye contact with Clover to tell him, make sure he  _ knew _ , that he was sorry. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.


	5. Day 31 - Whipped - Clover POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Tags: Graphic Injury, Hospital Setting

The tension in Clover’s shoulders really should have made him more cautious. Going into the field with other things on your mind was a recipe for failure, or at the very least for something to go wrong. He took his semblance for granted, and had underestimated his partners’.

Earlier before their mission, he and Qrow got into a little argument over…  _ gods he couldn’t even remember what it was over. _ It wasn’t serious enough to affect their teamwork, or so he had thought, so he hadn’t felt compelled to call the mission off. 

That decision would really come to haunt him for a while.

Things went off without any hitches thankfully, no problems between them as they transferred supplies off the trucks and took a bit of inventory, but it was during a fight to protect the base from grimm when tragedy struck.

Kingfisher’s line whipped around the tundra to grapple grimm, throwing them back and forth and towards Qrow. The older man was off swiping and stabbing, switching wildly between Harbinger’s scythe and tonfa forms. They’d done well so far, keeping a bit more separate than they usually would, but it wasn’t a hindrance to them individually. Clover wiped his forehead after slicing a grimm to dust. He thought they were in the clear, not seeing any more grimm in the vicinity, so he flicked Kingfisher back towards himself to reel the line in. 

Suddenly Qrow was in front of him. 

He had been behind his back, out of his sightline and muted by the strong wind, pushed back by another enemy that Clover didn’t keep track of. He only had eyes on his partner, now in the path of his weapon.

Clover’s blood ran cold hearing Qrow’s broken scream, Kingfisher's line whipping across his front, his clothes ripping and blood spraying. It was pure adrenaline that allowed Clover to take out the sabyr that had pushed Qrow forward even as his heart and mind pleaded with him to get to Qrow’s side. He didn’t wait for the grimm to fully dissolve before throwing his weapon aside, rushing to his partner, and calling medical on his com. 

Qrow had fallen to his knees, curled in on himself and gripping his right shoulder tightly with his left hand. His right arm was limp, blood dripping steadily from his fingers. 

“Qrow!” Clover shouted, sliding to his knees next to him. He froze, stuttering out “O-Oh gods, how bad is it?”

Harsh breathing and pained groans were his only answer, Qrow not able to respond with words. He’d begun swaying too, his pupils rapidly dilating before he pitched forward.

Clover lunged to catch him before he hit the ice, cradling his partner. That snapped him out of it. He immediately laid him down and put pressure where he could, where the slash was deepest. His line sliced up Qrow’s torso, the wound starting at his sternum and ending through the top middle of his right shoulder where it was most severe. 

Panic was setting in. Clover had injured himself with Kingfisher’s line before so he knew how serious it could be. Thankfully the only really serious wound he had taken was during training where he received immediate medical attention, but even then, he’d passed out like Qrow had needed a small transfusion.  _ If Qrow had already passed out from blood loss and medical wasn’t here within the next minute, Qrow could- _

“Clover!”

The call of his name shoved his spiraling thoughts aside. Clover would have jumped for joy seeing Jaune sprint towards them with the medical team in tow if he wasn’t trying to keep Qrow’s blood in his body. Jaune slid to his knees on the other side of Qrow, quickly assessing the wound and activating his semblance. Clover kept his hands on the wound anyways to keep the pressure as Jaune pushed Qrow’s aura to weave his skin back together. The medics barking orders and using jargon to prepare what they’d need to supplement Jaune’s help registered to Clover in a sense, words like ‘transfusion’ and ‘ Hypovolemic shock’ reaching his ears, but all of his focus was on his partner. He was growing stiff having kept the same position for a few minutes, but he pushed himself, screaming at his body that his discomfort  _ was not _ and  _ would never be _ more important than Qrow’s life. 

The moment that Qrow’s wound wasn’t hemorrhaging anymore, Clover was brushed aside. Jaune continued while the medics hooked Qrow up to a transfusion and brought a stretcher over to transport him. Soon after, they reached the point where Jaune’s help became unnecessary, and Qrow was whisked away to a medical transport ship. 

Clover was broken out of a daze he didn’t realize he was in when Jaune put his hand on his shoulder. “Clover, he’ll be ok. Grab his weapon and meet me at the manta, then we can go wait in the med wing.” He nodded, not even caring that the young huntsman was telling him what to do.

His body felt like it was on autopilot, steering him first towards Harbinger. It was difficult to look at, as it was still lying in the puddle of Qrow’s blood. Though, picking up his partner's weapon was a cake walk compared to his. The line had stopped retracting into the reel the moment he took his finger off the trigger and tossed it aside. 

The length of line coated in blood was  _ so long.  _

He picked it up with shaky hands, not caring about cleaning the line off before retracting it fully. He’d clean it later. After he knew Qrow was ok. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold Kingfisher ever again if Qrow- if he died, if  _ his weapon _ was what killed him.

The ride up to Atlas was somber. Clover reported back to the General from his com, emotionless as to avoid breaking down. He didn’t let James ask if he was alright either. He wouldn’t be able to keep composed if he did, so he ended the call abruptly. Jaune volunteered to tell Ruby, Yang, and the others. Nodding, Clover silently thanked him. He didn’t know if he could face the kids either, having to tell them that he was the one to… to injure Qrow so severely.

A few hours in the waiting room felt like an eternity before he was allowed to see his partner, making it feel instant when the dam finally burst. 

When he was sat at Qrow’s side in the medical wing. He had cataloged his injuries when he first arrived; Qrow’s left arm had a transfusion tube feeding him blood and his right shoulder was heavily bandaged, arm in a sling. He had been told by the doctors that he needed a copious amount of stitches to make sure Jaunes' efforts to close the skin over his wound stayed closed, and that he'd need to do a bit of physical therapy to heal the effects of nerve damage to his shoulder. Qrow would be alright, they'd assured him, helping his panic loosen its grip on his body. 

It wasn't long before Ruby and Yang rushed into the room asking what happened. He was told very sternly by Qrows' nieces that  _ ‘This wasn’t your fault,’  _ and when they left the room they took a bit of his crushing guilt with them. But the last straw, the final push to release all his sadness and grief, was watching Qrow’s chest move up and down deeply without stutter in the now silent room. 

The realization that he almost lost his love broke him. 


End file.
